Taking Over Me
by SafirePhoenix
Summary: They say that a single moment can affect a dozen others. Ginny Weasley's sorting changed an entire world. New friends, new enemies and a new destiny. The Chamber is not the only secret on the loose.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the world of wizardry belong to J.K. Rowling, but a few of the characters in this chapter are all mine. **

**A/N: This story focuses on Ginny Weasley, beginning with her first year of Hogwarts. While the plot bears some resemblance to the books, nothing will go as you'd expect. There will be a few original characters in this story, but I promise I will do my best to make them interesting. **

**Anyway, please give the story a chance. I've worked really hard on it, with some input from my trusty beta, SpiderLily, and I'm very proud of how it's come out so far.**

**(New Addition) This chapter has been reposted with several changes. I strongly recommend taking a peek at the first two character sections before you go on to the third chapter. **

**And one more thing; I'll let you guys know now that I am going to follow certain aspects of books 6 and 7, but other things will be changed to suit my purposes. **

* * *

**Mallain, May, around the end of Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts:**In a dilapidated, dusty manor located in the western reaches of Scotland, a young boy of eleven lay still and silent on his creaky bed as he listened to his uncle rage in the foyer downstairs. As per usual, mumbled rants of how life just wasn't fair, and that all Muggles were scum, drifted up through the floorboards to interrupt his thoughts. 

_'The old man is at it again,'_ Alex thought bitterly, rolling over onto his stomach to get more comfortable as he read through a battered copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Year 1_. He tried to ignore the musty smell of his pillow, and the way it was slightly damp from the chill outside. The bare plaster walls of his room were never enough to keep out the draft.

A loud crash from below heralded the end of his uncle's drinking binge as the bottle of rum was thrown half-heartedly at a wall. It just meant more work for Alex later that day, as if he didn't have anything better to do.

The family of two did own a house-elf, in accordance with most pureblood families, but it was perhaps even more pathetic than the manor itself. Dinkins was so senile that Alex doubted the elf could remember his own name, let alone those of his masters. In fact, he more often than not mistook Alex for his father, and didn't _that_ just get his his uncle's knickers in a twist... Dinkins was too frail to ever clean properly, leaving Alex to do any sweeping up when the fancy took him, and his cooking should have been confiscated by the Department of Mysteries, because it sure was a mystery when the roast tried to crawl off his dinner plate.

"BOY, COME DOWN HERE!"

Groaning, Alex dog-eared his page and rolled off the bed, flinching as his bare feet came into contact with the icy hardwood floor. Once again longing for time to leap forward to September first, he opened the bedroom door and stomped down the stairs, no longer bothering to keep the noise to a minimum. His guardian would be completely hung over in an hour or so, so why shouldn't Alex make every effort to further his pounding headache? It wasn't like his uncle had ever gone to the trouble of sparing him a little pain, so why not return the favor?

He finally reached the spacious first floor, which was devoid of the normal comforts of any other home that size. Most of the antique furniture had been pawned off years ago, and anything that remained was stained and moth-eaten. Alex found his uncle reclined on the sole couch, his bony limbs engulfed by frayed wizarding robes.

The old man glanced up with bloodshot eyes as his nephew shuffled inside, and neither attempted to greet the other. He kept one hand draped across his distended stomach, while the other hung limp near the floor. It would clench every now and then, as if feeling strangely empty without the slender bottle, which now lay in shards embedded in the dirty carpet.

Mortimer Draper examined the boy from head to toe, taking note of how little had changed over the years. The whelp was still a near carbon-copy of his late brother, from the thin, almost emaciated figure to the straight, wheat-colored hair. The only difference was the pair of almond-shaped eyes, too dark for blue, almost violet. Merlin knew where he got those bloody things- probably from his Mudblood mother. At that moment, the boy's eyes glared challengingly at the old man, as though daring him to criticize something.

"What do you want now?" Alex asked, not bothering to hide his disgust at the old man. His salt and pepper goatee looked as greasy and unwashed as the rest of him, and Alex cringed at the sharp smell of sweat of alcohol on the man who was supposed to be the last of his blood kin.

Mortimer sneered in reply, "Watch your tone, boy. Is that any way to treat your betters?"

Alex barely restrained an eye roll as he muttered, "Sorry, haven't met any of those yet."

"Enough, brat!" Gnarled hands shook as he lifted himself into a less slumped position. "A little gratitude would be nice after I went to all the trouble of getting you a birthday present-"

"What?" the boy blurted out in shock, not only amazed that his uncle knew what day it was, but that he had even bothered to acknowledge it. Alex knew it must be too good to be true.

"Yes, I brought home a little gift- a family heirloom, in fact!" Mortimer seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as he teased the boy. Reaching into a pocket in his grubby robes, he pulled out a dull silver locket.

Alex was stunned by the necklace. It looked quite elegant for something that had come out of their family history, and it was a miracle in itself that the locket hadn't been sold to pay off his uncle's debts ages ago. He obligingly held out a hand when his uncle dangled the treasure before his eyes. Its momentum carried it from side to side gently, and Alex caught a glimpse of an engraved letter on the front. It glittered in the weak candlelight.

"Well, don't just stand there gawping!" Mortimer rasped impatiently. "Put it on!"

With a brief moment of hesitation, Alex brought the chain up to his pale neck and fixed the clasp. As he did so, his uncle elaborated on its origin.

"That little beauty has been in our family for generations, up until it went missing _(Ha! Stolen more like!)_ right before the Great Split. Your four-times-great uncle separated from the line, said he wanted nothing to do with our lot, and ran off with two of the greatest symbols of our heritage! Greedy bastards! Never saw 'em again, or the ring, for that matter- But now the locket has returned to its rightful owners!"

Mortimer gazed upon his nephew fondly, although Alex doubted the old man saw anything but the silver ornament on his chest. It was truly a miracle that he'd managed to part with it long enough to bestow something so apparently valuable on his brother's 'filthy half-blood spawn.'

"For years I've been searching," he continued, staring in a way that said he'd already forgotten Alex's presence. "No one believed I'd find it, they all said it was lost forever! Even my father thought I was wasting my time, but I showed him, eh? Finally tracked the locket down to old Borgin in Knockturn Alley! That little thief had it on display like some gaudy trinket!" Mortimer seethed.

"Well, what do I do when I see it?" he asked rhetorically.

Under his breath, Alex suggested something that sounded like 'give a hissy fit.'

"I marched right in there, and demanded he give it back, that's what!" Mortimer puffed his chest out importantly, as though he done something truly daring. "The fool actually had the gall to try and sell it back!" he snorted. "Claimed he bought it fair and square from some filthy wench, then sold it to the brat he used to employ! Only just got it back, apparently, and from a bleeding house-elf! Borgin was perfectly willing to part with it for a few hundred galleons- Pfft! I told him where he could stick his gold-"

Alex yawned delicately. He wonder if his uncle had a point he was getting to? Otherwise, he would much rather head back upstairs and finish his book. Oh, wait, he was actually making eye contact this time... Best to act like he was paying attention...

"-and I reckoned you ought to have something to show people when you go off to school in a few months. It's up to you to bring back honor to the name Draper, and show those other pureblooded popinjays what we're made of!

"Always lookin' down on us just because we don't have the gold to spread around without a care in the world," Mortimer hissed under his breath. "But I know where Lucius' fortune comes from...! The Drapers are of the old blood! We deserve more respect...!"

Alex ignored his uncle's rambling in favor of examining the locket itself. It was held together by a thin clasp that wouldn't budge no matter how hard he pried with his fingers. He wondered what kind of portrait might be inside, probably one of a very old ancestor... Shrugging, he settled it back on his chest and decided to leave the foyer. Fortunately, his uncle was on the verge of passing out from the rum, so Alex was no longer needed.

As he climbed around one of the stair corners, Alex passed a familiar painting hung on the wall. It was of a solemn-looking couple, sitting on a bench in what had once been a flourishing rose garden outside. The man sat up straight, with all the dignity of a true pureblood. The only flaw in his pose was the arm held loosely around a delicate-looking woman. The two watched with serious eyes as Alex passed, but the woman gave him a small smile that most would have missed. Just next to the painting, a gilded portrait of an older man with a heavy jaw frowned disapprovingly. Alex snorted at his grandfather and waved farewell to the couple before continuing.

Seeing all the faces of his past family adorning the walls, Alex thought more on the heirloom he had received. He understood perfectly why the old man had given the necklace to him. He just wanted something to show off when Alex got to Hogwarts; never mind that his nephew was a more than capable young wizard... There he would be under the scrutiny of some of the British Isles' most influential wizarding children. Alex was expected to uphold what little family honor they had left- which really wasn't much since his mad uncle was a laughingstock among many.

Mortimer was always going on about the shame brought to their family after the Great Split, far back when their surname hadn't even been Draper. There was no definite answer as to who or where Alex's distant cousins were, only that those with long-lost blood ties to the remaining Drapers existed out there somewhere. For all Mortimer knew, they could be the most upstanding of wizard society, and yet it was more likely, and favorable in his uncle's opinion, that they were a group of no-good, run-down heathens.

The family name was all that had ever mattered to Mortimer, a quality passed on by his own father before he died. And yet, there was no family left to uphold any kind of honor. Mortimer, still single and childless, was the uncontested head of the family, and Alex was the sole remaining heir. His father, before he died, had also thrown away any sense of blood purity by marrying a Muggleborn and having a half-blood son.

All anyone ever saw when they looked upon the Drapers was the shame of a once-noble family fallen to ruin. His uncle was the eccentric old man who refused to give up on past glory. Alex was even less than that in the eyes of those who mattered. Alex was little more than a weak half-blood, one who would bring about the anticlimactic end to an already dwindling legacy...

But Alex would show them all.

He had his own plans once school started, ones far more impressive than showing off some flashy locket to get a little attention. Alex would ensure that his years at Hogwarts did not go to waste. He would keep his head down for now, and learn all that the famed school of magic could teach. Alex was going to do everything in his power to become a proper wizard, and gain the respect of the so-called _Purebloods_. And then, just maybe, Alex could leave behind the shadow of his dreary life, the ruined home and the equally hopeless uncle. In the end, Alex would make something of himself, and he would do his parents proud...

* * *

**Devon, June of that same summer:**

Against a backdrop of fading twilight, a dark, rook-shaped home stood upon the hill several miles north of a Muggle village. The residents of Ottery St. Catchpole rarely visited the family of two that dwelled inside. Some held a reluctance to climb the steep hill so isolated from the rest of the world. Others chose not to visit simply to avoid the Lovegoods, who very well might have lived in their own universe.

Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood was a single father, his wife having died some years ago in a tragic accident, although few knew of the exact details. The man himself had several odd quirks that failed to endear him to any of his neighbors, such as turning up in the village at odd times to purchase supplies for a long expedition to study imaginary creatures, wandering the nearby farm and speaking down the rabbit holes, setting fire to the annual batch of mistletoe and claiming it was for the greater good, and _then_ there was the time he was spotted with his young daughter, dancing about in a lightning storm with a giant antennae on his head...

Little Luna Lovegood could only be pitied for having such a rough upbringing. It must have been Xenophilius' fault that she grew so wild, they said, running about with bare feet and tangled blonde hair, and telling crazy tales to all the village children. Whenever Luna was around, with that dreamy look in her eyes, the old mothers would watch their children tease and laugh at her bland comments, all the while whispering behind their hands that the poor child could not be right in the head- no, not at all.

Whether Luna was really capable of rational thought had yet to be seen by any of the Muggle villagers. If someone were to spend more time in her company, then perhaps they might uncover a deeper meaning to her strange conversations. Unfortunately, Luna did not have any friends to make an attempt in understanding her. The Muggles were rather close-minded, not even knowing that magic existed, and while there was a large family of Wizards living in the opposite direction of the Lovegoods' home, they hadn't been very accommodating to Luna's mindset, either. The Weasley boys were a rowdy lot, and shot down any of Luna's words with bewilderment and contempt. There was supposed to be a daughter her own age, but they had never had the chance to play, as Mrs. Weasley seemed to disapprove of her father's hobbies, especially the magazine he printed, called the Quibbler.

Luna knew very well what most people thought of her, and while a normal person might feel hurt, or even angered, by the words whispered behind their back... Well, there was some truth in saying that Luna was indeed _not_ normal. In her mind, blissful ignorance was the better part of valor... so the Wrackspurts must have been running rampant that year. If only the Muggles would listen to her father's warnings every once and a while (they were _still_ suffering the effects of that Nargle infestation last Christmas). It really was a shame they were now bereft of whatever marbles they had once possessed...

Quietly humming an old tune that she remembered some of the village children singing, Luna kneeled in the small vegetable patch outside, heedless of the dirt staining the knees of her pants. Her pale fingers brushed through a scraggly bush weighted down by bright orange fruit shaped much like radishes. She and her father knew them as Dirigible Plums, perfect for enhancing the ability to accept the extraordinary. Luna was hoping to pluck a few of the smaller ones to fashion into earrings. Perhaps they would aid her in the coming school year, when the fastidious rules and unchangeable world order threatened to overwhelm her.

Luna's first year at Hogwarts was indeed approaching at a suspiciously speedy pace. One had to wonder if there was a magical creature out there with the ability to shorten time, or perhaps it was another insidious plot by Minister Fudge (he had to keep busy until the Heliopaths hatched, after all). It wasn't that Luna dreaded the start of school, but she felt an unusual bout of nerves every time the subject came up over supper.

Just what would it be like to be surrounded by so many budding magical children? Would they treat her any differently than the Muggles, or would they look down on her just the same? For that matter, which House would Luna reside in? It didn't really make a difference in her opinion. Courage and loyalty... it was possible that some part of her held those traits... And cunning? Well, Luna had to have inherited some from her father (he was sharp as a tack when it came to uncovering the truth).

But, if she had to choose, Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad.

At least they were open to new ideas and knowledge.

And the towers should be safer, what with the Aquavirius Maggots that were rumored to breed in dank and dark dungeons. Luna pitied the Slytherin students.

* * *

**Aberdeen, July, still summer:**

"Ahh! Someone, save me!" a shrill voice squealed, before falling into uncontrollable giggles.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you, fair maiden!" a masculine, yet boyish voice called in what he thought was a heroic tone. It didn't last when followed up by a whining, "Aww, do I have to?"

"Yep! Now hurry up, Ian! The dragon's gonna eat me!"

There was a resigned sigh. "Fine."

As he crawled around the tower of pillows, wand held at the ready, Ian Zabini swore to himself that this was the absolute last time he let his baby sister talk him into playing one of her games. Funny how he had made that exact same promise not even a week ago...

Rosalie, or Rosie, as her siblings called her, screamed in pretend fear as the 'dragon' prepared to let loose a stream of fiery death. Puff the purple stuffed dragon gave a tiny burp of magical sparks and sat back down on his patchwork haunches.

Jumping from behind the sofa and tucking into a roll on landing, Ian whipped out his wand and shouted a gibberish hex at the stuffed toy. Nothing happened of course, but Rosie clapped in glee as her brother finally carried her down from her prison atop the pillows and bed sheets.

"My hero!" The five-year-old gave her brother a sloppy kiss on the cheek as he held her, prompting him to make disgusted sounds and dump her in a chair as he tried to wipe the drool off his cheeks to no avail.

"Don't tell me," a voice drawled from behind the two, "that you're playing Harry Potter saves the princess again? Do you have any idea how disturbing that game is for those of us who actually know the royal idiot?"

Rosie shot an angry pout at her eldest brother. "Bad Blaise! Don't say mean things about Harry Potter! He's the bestest wizard ever!"

"And yet, I'm the one stuck saving you from dragons," Ian mumbled sourly.

"My own sister is besotted with Potter!" Blaise moaned dramatically. "How can I ever live down the shame? I swear, if Draco knew what blasphemy went on in this house... Little Rosie's got her heart set on marrying his arch rival!"

"I think he'll survive," Ian said in a dry tone.

"Of course he will! I'm the one who'll have to suffer the consequences! It's a betrayal of everything my house stands for! Kissing up to the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Go-Ahead-And-Die-"

"Give it a rest, Blaise!" Ian shouted over his brother's agonized proclamations. "Besides, I'm sure half the Slytherin girls are already part of his bloody fan club."

Blaise winced. "Don't remind me, please."

Just then, hurried footsteps coming down the curved staircase announced the arrival of the last Zabini child. A teenaged girl with long, dark hair charmed into ringlets appeared, increasing her pace as she spotted her target. A face that would normally be considered breathtakingly beautiful was screwed up in rage. Her searching eyes finally landed amidst the huddle of children, and Marillia gave a shriek.

"YOU!" She jabbed a painted fingernail in Ian's direction.

"Wha-" Ian looked around the room nervously until he came to the sad realization. "Oh... me."

Blaise snickered.

"Yes, you!" Marillia growled, stomping toward the cowering younger boy. Reaching him with little trouble- so much for sibling loyalty- she hauled him up by his shirt with surprising strength. "I know you have it, now hand it over!"

"Have what?" Ian squeaked hesitantly through the strangling grip on his collar.

"You know precisely what, you little pest! Give me back my wand!"

Ian froze at that, and the hand gripping his sister's missing wand stopped inching towards Rosie behind his back. The little girl gave him a guilty look for not being able to help, but Marillia was _scary_ sometimes!

"What would ever make you think I'd take your wand, 'Rilli?" Ian asked with a blank face.

Marillia shuddered at the distorted version of her name. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed it... She recovered soon enough and glared down her nose at him.

Her height advantage was so unfair. She was only a few years older than him!

"Don't give me that, you little blighter! I know you have it! You're the one who's always borrowing someone's wand to practice spells you can hardly pronounce-"

"Hey-" Ian was slightly offended by that. It wasn't his fault wizards came up with the most complicated ways to say a simple charm!

"Now, this is your last chance," Marillia hissed. "WHERE IS MY WAND?"

"No idea," Ian shrugged, grinning as he held up two perfectly empty hands.

Marillia seemed a bit less murderous when she realized he wasn't the one in possession of her wand. That didn't mean he was off the hook, though, not by a long shot.

"Well, if you don't have it," she began in a calculating tone as she released her brother, "then who does?"

Ian kept his mouth shut and his eyes wide and innocent. He had that facade down to an art, although Blaise claimed it made him look like an owl caught in wandlight. Not quite was he was going for...

Speaking of Blaise, the soon-to-be-second-year was taking careful steps toward the doorway, and ever further from their crazed sister. Her temper could spark again at a moment's notice. Ian and Blaise sometimes wondered at her bipolar tendencies. Rosie had overheard them and asked if it had anything to do with the North Pole, and if that meant Marillia was one of Santa's house-elves. Thank Merlin their sister wasn't around to hear the long bout of laughter that had followed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Marillia snapped, not missing Blaise's suspicious actions.

"Um, I... have a previous engagement. People to see, plans to make, you know how it is," he lied smoothly.

Marillia raised a delicate eyebrow. "What's that in your pocket, Blaise, dear?"

"My wand, of course," he said and casually held up a twelve-inch piece of wood before tucking it away again.

"Nice try."

"RUN, BLAISE!"

He did so without hesitation, saving himself from what would have been a very painful tackle by the raging girl. Blaise gave a small scream when he was nearly caught by her clawing hands. Ian and Rosie watched, stunned, before the pair hurtled towards them, and Blaise shoved the sparking stick into his hands before leaping over a footstool. Ian didn't start off quick enough, and was nearly choked when his shirt was grabbed roughly. He managed to slip his head out of the T-shirt before he really did pass out from lack of oxygen.

"BLOODY WOMAN, ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?"

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she roared as if she hadn't heard him.

Well, he guessed that answered his question.

Taking a sharp turn, and grabbing onto a tall floor lamp for balance, Ian tossed the wand to Rosie. Yes, it was a bit cowardly to leave a toddler in the grips of a hormonal killing machine, but he was desperate. Besides, Marillia had always liked Rosie more.

The little girl took one look at the wand and giggled before clutching it tightly and running, albeit clumsily, to safety. It was the wide, low-lying coffee table that finally saved her. Even with magical space expansion, Rosie was still the only one short enough to fit under there. Marillia had finally toned it down, not wanting to hurt the only sibling she could still tolerate. She was spread out on her stomach at that point, beckoning to Rosie and trying everything from begging to bribing to get the little girl loose.

Ian and Blaise sat back comfortably on a two-seater, the former having recovered his shirt that was sporting a new arm hole thanks to Marillia, and were just reveling in their sister's annoyance. Ian was finally torn away from the sight of the pleading teen by a tap at the window. He stood up to unlatch the window, letting in a large tawny owl. The others gradually stopped what they were doing as well to watch as he untied a thick envelope. The owl flew off as soon as it was freed of its burden.

"Who is it for?" Marillia asked nonchalantly, trying to act as though her hair wasn't a frizzy mess and her her arms weren't streaked with carpet burn.

"Oh, yes, Ian, who's it for?" Blaise grinned mockingly at the girl. "Maybe it's from Marillia's _boyfriend_. What was his name? John-Peter?"

"That's Jean-Pierre!" Marillia flushed red. "And he's not my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that... and I'm sure it's _completely_ normal for friends to send each other flowers-"

"And chocolate," Ian added, catching on.

"And perfumed letters in return-"

"He is not-" she began angrily.

"Or expensive tickets to see the Weird Sisters-"

"And just how often does he write?"

"Like three times a week-"

"He does not, and he isn't my-"

Rosie finally poked her head out from under the table, covered in dust bunnies, and asked, "Is Marillia going to get married to J.P.? Are they going to have a baby, too?"

Marillia screamed, tearing at her curls in the process, and Blaise burst out laughing. Ian was about to join them when he glimpsed the seal on the envelope still in his hand.

It couldn't be...

Could it?

It was.

Ian Zabini's Hogwarts letter had just arrived.

* * *

**London, August, one week until school starts:**

Ginny stumbled out of the Floo and clipped her elbow sharply on the brick opening. She gagged on the harsh taste of ash in her throat, and wondered why they couldn't have chosen any other method to get to Diagon Alley. Even that nausea-inducing bus was preferable to this!

Rubbing soot out of her eyes, Ginny glanced around for her mother, wondering why no one had bothered to help her up yet. She stopped dead at the sight of a yellowed skull sitting on display not two feet from her. If that wasn't her first hint that something was wrong, then the foul-looking man behind the store counter was enough to send Ginny quietly groaning in dismay.

Of all the days to get lost in the Floo, why did it have to happen _that_ day? It wasn't as if she hadn't done this a hundred times, so how in the name of Merlin did she screw up now?

_'I'm never going to live this down,'_ Ginny thought unhappily. Then she was hit by a sudden realization. _'Mum is going to kill me!' _

Her mother had always been a bit overprotective when it came to Ginny, ignorant to the fact that she could take care of herself just fine. By now she was sure her mother would be tearing into her brothers 'for losing their poor, defenseless sister.' As if they could help such a twist of fate.

Where was she anyway? They certainly didn't sell the kinds of items Ginny was seeing in any shop she knew of. She just hoped she hadn't gone too many grates ahead...

_'It would by just fantastic if I ended up in Hogsmead instead of Diagon Alley. I can't imagine explaining that to Mum. But I'm sure it's not that bad. I certainly wasn't in the Floo long enough to go that far... Maybe this is just the wrong shop. Yeah, The Leaky Cauldron can't be the only one with a fireplace... Although, I've never seen any others... Maybe it's the Apothecary?'_ Ginny wondered, as she spotted several liquid-filled jars in a case directly across the room. Then her eyes focused more clearly on one of the items nearer to her. Ginny gulped. _'I don't remember the Apothecary selling human hands...' _She eyed the dried up limb that sat displayed on a silk pillow. Nope, nothing like that had ever come up while they were buying Ron's potions ingredients last year.

Wincing as she got to her knees, Ginny decided to leave the strange store as soon as possible, hopefully without being seen. She was lucky that there were no other customers at the moment. Now she only had to worry about the shopkeeper. Ginny was made a bit nervous by the way he kept twitching and checking a clock on the wall, then glancing at the door as though he was waiting for someone. He also seemed to be in a very irritable mood. If Ginny didn't know better, she'd say the wizard looked _frightened_...

_'Time to go!'_ Ginny's inner voice was falsely bright. She was not about to admit to herself that she wanted her mum. Even her stupid brothers would do right now.

Ginny checked to see that the man was still preoccupied before she moved. He was muttering under his breath. Then he finally threw up his hands as though coming to a decision, and the man turned and walked through a door behind the counter.

As soon as his back disappeared from view, Ginny jumped into action. Bent almost double, she scurried off into the musty aisles, eyes set determinedly on the front door. Crawling past the fully-stocked shelves, Ginny found her gaze invariably drawn towards the objects out. It would have perhaps been better if she had held off the temptation. Ginny was now positive that this was no store in Diagon Alley. After all, there were sinister-looking masks decorating the walls, and sharp, rusty hooks dangling from the ceiling... An assortment of jewelry sat nearby, and Ginny found her vision blurring every time she tried to focus on the string of pearls or the obsidian ring. And that pack of cards over there seemed to be stained in... _blood_.

Distracted as she was by the ominous store goods, the gentle creaking of the chains overhead, and a giant glass eye that was _definitely_ staring at her, Ginny never noticed the soft pattering against the stone floor that came from behind her. The muffled taps paced themselves with her own light footsteps, making it impossible to distinguish one set from the other.

Only feet from the storefront, Ginny frowned in worry. The view outside the darkened windows was completely unfamiliar. The glass itself was dusty enough that her vision was impaired, but the street actually seemed to emanate darkness, if that were possible. For such a sunny day, as she recalled it being when she had woken up that morning, the world outside was rather shadowed. Even if she managed to leave this bloody place, Ginny had no clue as to how she would get to her family. She pushed that thought away, preferring to take one step at a time.

One more problem was added to the list of reasons why Ginny absolutely hated her luck that day. She had unconsciously stopped her progress at seeing the outside world, and the sounds of approach from behind now reached her ears. Ginny panicked, thinking the shopkeeper had come back and seen her. She twisted around, face pale and an excuse on her lips... but it died when she confronted the very thing that had been stalking her.

Ginny was hard-pressed not to scream when the mummified hand from earlier sat on the floor, balancing on five wrinkled digits like some kind of mutated spider. For a minute, Ginny's mind flashed on how Ron would react at such a sight, him having the greatest phobia of spiders. All thoughts of her brother's fear flew away when her own terror doubled as the creeping hand pounced, aiming straight at her face.

She really did scream that time, a sort of strangled cry, as she fell backwards, the hand clinging to the front of her jacket. Ginny hit the stone floor with a painful thump, but jumped up again immediately, flinging her arms around and trying to shake the foreign limb loose. The hand was unperturbed as it scuttled up her chest and over her shoulder. Ginny shook her head wildly, red locks stinging her face, and ran her hands up and down the area of her throat, trying to knock it off.

She was a bit off balance, too startled by the sensation of bony fingers tickling her throat, to pay attention to her footsteps. Stumbling around, all thoughts off secrecy abandoned in the moment, Ginny crashed into a tall bookcase filled with ancient tomes. The entire structure teetered unsteadily, then toppled over with a resounding crash. Ginny dove forward just in time to miss being crushed by the enormous weight, although a few books managed to hit her, and she was sure that one the size of a magical encyclopedia had given her a concussion.

The falling books did have the added bonus of detaching the dismembered hand, which Ginny noted with no small amount of relief as she crawled out from under the mess. Then she realized just how much of a disaster it was. The heavy oak shelf was lying on its side, books scattered everywhere, and another shelf nearby had been knocked into as well. There were also items all over the floor, jolted from their spots by all the shaking. Many of those things seemed to be broken, including the heavy jars of potions ingredients that were now seeping unidentifiable liquid across the texts. All in all, the store was a wreck. It actually looked like something the twins had gone rampaging through.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE!"

Ginny blanched._ 'I am so dead...'_

Ginny ran the rest of the way to the door, leaping over any objects rolling across the floor. She slipped outside not a moment too soon.

Mr. Borgin panted as he came upstairs, having run up from the supply cellar he was sorting through. He gasped at state of his store. Half of his stock was ruined... Who could have done such a thing...? He had seen no one come in... The wards over the front door should have warned him if someone had... Could it have been an Auror? But, no, they would have just confiscated the lot. Any sane dark wizard would have done the same. So, then why...?

Borgin's face began to take on a deep violet hue. Some of those things had take ages to procure! The cost of repairs alone was going to set him back years! Oh, when he found out who had _dared_ to-

Just then, the bell hanging over the front door chimed, and Borgin felt an echoing tingle alerting him that the wards had been breached. Gazing up at the new arrival, Borgin paled.

"Borgin, what in the name of Merlin have you been doing?" Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room, black robes sweeping behind him and his silver serpent cane tapping against the floor. An expression of disgust crossed his aristocratic features as he nearly stepped in a puddle of armadillo bile. His silver eyes gazed around the room, taking in the obvious signs of disarray.

Lucius looked vaguely displeased as he met Borgin's fearful gaze. The shopkeeper wrung his hands nervously and tried to halt his own trembling.

"H-how, can I help you, Lord Malfoy?" He smiled falteringly, as though he wasn't standing amidst the destruction of his livelihood.

"You know what I'm here for, Borgin," Lucius replied in a sharp tone. He arched a blonde eyebrow when the other man's quaking increased. "I trust nothing _unfortunate_ has happened to it?" The way he emphasized the word 'unfortunate' clearly said that Borgin would end up in similar circumstances if that were so.

Borgin's beady black eyes widened, the whites showing all around, and he licked his lips nervously. He darted a glance toward the mound of contaminated books. _Unfortunately_ for him, Lucius did not miss the gesture. His silver eyes narrowed burningly, and he ground the tip of his cane into the floor as stalked forward.

The denizens of the alley outside would later hear Borgin's screams, but as such a thing was not unusual, no one would bother to help him.

---------------

Further away from the store proclaimed Borgin and Burkes, Ginny halted at another fork in the road, trying to choose yet again which way would provide an exit from this hellish place. She had already deduced that wherever she was, that store was not the only one of its kind. Most of the shops around her seemed to follow the trend of being unusually creepy, and the few people wandering about weren't much better. Most of them kept their faces cloaked and strode by quickly, with their hands never straying far from their pockets. She had no idea if they were even human, and Ginny was almost sure that the woman settled behind a booth to her left was some kind of hag. It didn't help that she had tried to sell Ginny a tray of various species of fingernails while grinning with a mouth full of pointed teeth.

"Hmm, let's see," Ginny muttered aloud to herself as she picked a path. She had figured out that no one would care how much she talked to herself there, and at least the sound of her own voice was comforting. "Do I take the long, dark path on the left... or the long, dark path on the right?" Ginny snorted at the choices and wondered if it was just better to wait until someone found her.

Then the hag nearby hacked wetly, reminding Ginny that it might not be in her best interest to be found by any of the people here.

"Okay, scary path on the right it is!"

So saying, Ginny marched off, head held high, although she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder every now and then. It might have helped if she'd had some way to defend herself. And to think, she should have been purchasing her wand at that very moment...

And so Ginny wandered off down the silent street, lost in both her way and her thoughts. At the same time, she never noticed the added weight to her person, centered in the hood of her jacket. There, hidden from view amongst the folds of material, rested a small black diary that had fallen from its shelf not too long ago...

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**REVIEW because you know you want to! The mouse is just begging to be clicked... You wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would you? **

**OH MY GOD! I ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING! I started this so long ago... and it's finally ready for posting! YES! Please tell me what you guys think. **


	2. Knockturnal Wanderings

**Disclaimer: You know that the OCs belong to me, and Ginny Weasley belongs to JK. Between you and me, I think my Ginny is better (sticks out tongue at JK).**

**A/N: First off, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. You were a huge help for poor little old me, who was afraid no one would like her non-Harry story. I do have to mention one reviewer, Hydra, for the spectacular review they gave me. It's nice to hear from someone every now and then who actually knows what they're talking about. Also, thanks to my beta, SpiderLily, for putting up with me, as always.**

* * *

"Hmm, do you think father would get me that?" a voice inquired flippantly as two boys stared into a window displaying all manner of magical creatures.

Some of the animals looked rather dubious, such as a Runespoor with a scaly stump where the third head should have been, a doxy that was buzzing angrily against the bars of its cage, and a tiny golden bird that was zipping around faster than the eye could see. It was a strangely steaming red egg that held the boy's fascination. It would jiggle every now and then, as though knowing it was under observation.

"When he said he would buy you a present, I don't think that was quite what he had in mind," responded the taller and darker-haired boy in a dry tone.

His blonde friend snorted petulantly but knew he was right. His father may buy him anything he desired, but that generosity probably wouldn't extend toward an infant dragon. His mother would have never allowed it inside the house. At least he could expect a new broom this year... The two young wizards moved along to examine another shop.

A third boy stood at a slight distance from the two, only trailing after them reluctantly. This boy was of a smaller stature, and obviously younger. He looked a great deal like the dark-haired boy, only he kept his hair shorter and spikier. His face sported two limped hazel eyes that were half-lidded with boredom, and lips pursed in clear annoyance with his situation. This boy was Ian Zabini.

Ian glowered after his brother and the Malfoy heir, making no effort to catch up with them. He had no idea what his mother was thinking when she had coerced Blaise into taking him for his school shopping. Ian would almost rather wait another few days if it meant not having to deal with his older and most annoying sibling.

Unfortunately, Marillia hadn't felt very accommodating toward her younger brother since the wand incident, and his mother herself had a previous engagement with her newest beau. Ian sincerely hoped the rich ponce came over for dinner sometime. It had been far too long since he and his siblings had run one of his ilk off the property screaming.

"Oi, brat, keep up!" Blaise ordered when he noticed the younger boy lagging behind. As little as he wanted Ian around, his mother would kill him _and_ Draco if they lost him in Knockturn Alley, of all places.

Ian sighed but picked up the pace. The school term was beginning in a week, and he had desperately needed to purchase his supplies. His mother had been delighted when Mr. Malfoy offered to take both him and Blaise to Diagon Alley when Draco went shopping as well. He supposed he should at least be grateful.

_'After all,'_ Ian remembered with a grin, _'I do finally have my own wand.'_

Smirking, he grasped the twelve-inch piece of wood in his pocket. After years of swiping everyone else's wands for a tempting wave, Ian finally had his own. It was twelve-inches, maple, with an Abraxan feather core. Abraxans were a powerful breed of winged horses with a palomino hide. Ian thought his wand was brilliant, and so much cooler than Blaise's common dragon heartstring core.

Ian sighed wistfully, wanting to get home as soon as possible so he could try out his wand. He already had several first year books to peruse, not to mention Blaise's second year texts, and Marillia's books as well. He just couldn't wait to get back under the family wards, where the ministry wouldn't be able to distinguish any spells he did as underage magic.

But instead of practicing, he was stuck here with his brother and his friend, wandering around some of the lighter venues of Knockturn Alley while they waited for Mr. Malfoy to finish an errand. Lucius hadn't mentioned his business, but Ian had overheard Draco telling Blaise he was more than likely selling some of the darker artifacts they kept around the manor. He'd also mentioned, in an underhanded tone, that his father was retrieving a few, as well.

Ian snorted at that. While his family was by no means sunshine and daisies, they weren't all former Death Eaters, either, unlike a certain family of pureblood aristocrats. Lucius would have to sell half the contents of Malfoy Manor before he would ever be able erase the taint of dark magic.

Fortunately, Ian's family were all neutral, meaning that while they weren't about to risk their necks for the ministry, they wouldn't bow down to a magical megalomaniac either. Of course, that didn't stop the ministry from investigating his own mother on false charges of murder. Just because a few of her previous husbands had _died_, didn't mean _she_ was the cause of it. Madam Zabini just had rotten luck. That, and wizards did have a tendency to end up missing and/or dead when a Dark Lord was on the rampage. Thank Merlin that mess had ended. Ian's own father had passed away before Harry Potter took care of things...

Forcefully snapping out his thoughts, Ian glanced up to check on his brother's progress. That was when he realized that Blaise was gone. There was no trace of the two boys, who had obviously moved deeper into the alley without a care for Ian.

_'Bloody fantastic,'_ Ian scowled. _'It would serve them right if I took off for the nearest Floo and went home. Mum would be furious with Blaise...'_

Just then, Ian noticed that he was no longer alone. He heard a scuffle coming from a side alley and began reaching for his wand. He wondered if it was just Blaise coming back. All the same, it could also be one of Knockturn's more unsavory characters, although few of them would choose to travel this close to the borders of Diagon Alley.

Rather than the irritated sibling or dark wizard Ian had been expecting, something else completely stumbled out of the darkness. It was a girl, probably no older than Ian himself. She was grumbling under her breath and blinking at the glaring difference in the lighting, as though she had been wandering in the dark for a while. She had fiery red hair strewn about her shoulders and a light smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

A tingle of recognition passed through the back of Ian's mind. He supposed he must have seen her family appearance somewhere. Pureblood families always bore certain physical traits. A perfect example was the Malfoys, who all had snow white skin and bleached blonde hair. Ian's own family were all slightly tanned with dark hair and eyes, although it varied with the number of random marriages his mother and others like her had come out of.

"Sweet Merlin, bloody daylight!" the ginger-haired girl crowed as she gazed around blissfully, once more attracting Ian's attention.

_'She certainly has a mouth on her, unlike some of the prissy girls I've met,'_ Ian thought, specifically remembering the functions where he had been introduced to the Greengrass' daughter and the Bones'.

"I take it you're not a vampire, then, if you're so eager for sun?" Ian asked in amusement, startling the poor girl, who had not noticed anyone else there.

Her head flipped around to stare at him, but her shoulders visibly relaxed once she realized he wasn't a threat. She gave him an affronted look and put her hands on her hips.

"Of course I'm not a vampire! Do I look like one?"

When Ian grinned and opened his mouth to reply, the girl snapped, "Don't even answer that."

"Why, I would never even suggest such a thing! What kind of cad to you take me for, to insult a lady?" Ian huffed in mock offense.

"A cad who lurks in dark alleys and doesn't know when to shut up," she said dryly.

"Well, if I'm really so despicable, then tell me, what are _you_ doing in a place like this?" Ian raised an eyebrow questioningly. "We've already established you're not a blood-drinker, although I'm starting to wonder about the possibility of a banshee relation with that temper-"

The girl shrieked in anger, which didn't help her case in the least. Ian suppressed a snigger at how easily she was riled. A few sounds still managed to escape despite his effort. The girl crossed her arms stubbornly and sent him a glare that promised pain if he didn't zip it. Ian held no such concern for his bodily safety, and continued on.

"-But if you are not, in fact, some type of vicious 'dark' creature, then what would someone like yourself be doing wandering around Knockturn Alley?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched the girl pale a sickly shade reminiscent of curdled milk beneath her freckles. Her jawed worked in silent disbelief before she was able to squeak, "_Knockturn Alley?_"

"Of course, where else could you be?" Ian was surprised she didn't know. What kind of person would willingly traverse this place otherwise? The streets practically oozed mystery and malice.

"I-I didn't know..." The girl suddenly seemed a lot less sure of herself, and a tad frightened, as she glanced around skittishly. The street was, thankfully, empty at that time.

Ian's face softened, feeling sympathetic. It must have been her first time in Knockturn Alley, and from the direction she had come, it was plain the girl had been much deeper than even Ian would choose to go without an adult wizard.

"How did you end up here, anyway?" he asked, stepping forward slowly so as not to send her into a panic, as she seemed so close to doing.

The girl blushed suddenly, an odd turn from the nervous pallor of a moment before. "Well, I... sortagolossindafoo."

Ian blinked and tried to disassemble her words. "Um, could you repeat that?"

"I... sort of... got lost in the Floo..." she admitted, sounding terribly embarrassed.

Ian could understand why.

But that didn't stop him from bursting out in laughter.

"Hey!" The girl stomped toward his shaking form, her previous ire returning. "Oi, it's not _that_ funny!"

"Y-yes, yes it is!" Ian cackled. Getting lost in the Floo was about the most ridiculous mistake a wizard could make, especially by their age. Of course, he was not about to tell her that he had done the same thing once. Besides, that time was _completely_ different. He had been tripped! _Really!_

"Oh, shut it, you!" she growled, kicking him in the shin.

"Ow!" Ian's laughter dissipated quickly as he rubbed his stinging knee. While Ian regained his composure, the girl sneered at him, not seeming the list bit apologetic for bruising him.

"So, if this is..." she fumbled for a second, "Knockturn Alley, then why are _you_ in here?" Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously at him.

_'Great,'_ Ian thought. _'She must be from a light-based family.'_

"Nothing illegal, so you don't have to worry your pretty little head," he informed her scornfully.

The girl dismissed his words with a roll of her eyes. She looked down at him in assessment, and then shook her head. "Oh, please, like you could do anything illegal. What are you, ten?"

Ian gaped at the nerve of her. Was she calling him short? Ian straightened up stubbornly and found himself matching her inch for inch. And she wasn't exactly tall for a girl. Oh, he _really_ needed a growth spurt...

"I'll have you know, I'm eleven, and starting at Hogwarts this year!"

"Really?" she remarked coolly. "Then I guess we'll be year mates. I'm starting, too."

"Ah." A devious expression crossed Ian's face. "School hasn't even begun, and I already have blackmail on you!"

He distinctly heard the girl mutter something like, 'Slytherin, should have known,' and he grinned. He was going to enjoy getting to know her.

"Do you want me to kick you again?" the girl asked rhetorically. "I can always aim higher, you know."

Ian winced. Then again, she was kind of violent. Maybe he was safer parting ways here and now.

"Tell you what," Ian began, trying to placate her, "you forget about this 'kicking' nonsense, and I'll show you the way out of here."

A brief flash of hope crossed the girl's face, before it was covered up by a neutral expression. Her brown eyes were filled with indecision.

Feeling reassured, Ian prodded, "You were trying to get to Diagon Alley, right?"

The girl nodded slowly.

"Well, then, you're in luck!" Ian smiled brilliantly and put an arm around her shoulder. He avoided all her attempts to shrug him off, and spun them both in the opposite direction. With a wide sweep of his arm, he indicated another street and started marching her in that direction.

"We happen to be quite close to the entrance. I'm surprised you made it so far on your own. How did you know which way to go?" he asked conversationally.

"Dumb luck," the girl muttered glumly, still trapped under his arm, but allowing it for the moment.

They continued a short distance, taking two turns left and one turn right. Finally, Ian halted them both, and announced proudly, "My lady, I present to you, Diagon Alley!"

The girl gasped in relief at the sudden onslaught of noise and color. There were fewer wizards this far out from the main thoroughfare, but a few less wealthy patrons were attracted to the outskirts by the street vendors and second-hand shops.

Seeing everything was in hand, Ian released the girl and took a step back. It was almost like crossing an invisible border as the world around him dimmed within Knockturn Alley's perimeter.

"Well," Ian said to break the awkward silence. "I suppose this is farewell." He pouted, wiping away a fake tear.

The girl cracked a reluctant smile at his antics. "Thanks, I guess."

Ian fought down a sudden warming in his cheeks and shrugged. "It was nothing. I guess I'll see you on the train?" he asked, not really expecting a response.

She tilted her head and grinned. "Maybe."

With that, the girl- whose name he had never really gotten- turned around and jogged off, immersing herself in the midday traffic until all he could make out was the top of her red hair. She finally disappeared from view, and Ian shook out of his stupor.

_'Just maybe...'_ he silently agreed. It would definitely be worth it to get see her again._ 'If only to tease her,'_ he admitted. _'Lost in the Floo!'_ he snorted.

"There you are!" a voice shouted in exasperation.

Ian spun around just as a panting Blaise caught up with him, looking more than annoyed. He took a moment to regain his breath before grabbing Ian by the back of his shirt and dragging him away. Ian yelped at the rough treatment.

"Hey, what are you-" he protested.

"C'mon," Blaise grunted, "we're leaving. Mr. Malfoy is waiting for me to find you, squirt. You just had to go wandering off-"

"I did not-"

"Lucius looked ready to kill when he got back!" Blaise continued, ignoring Ian. "I don't think his 'errand' went too well, seeing as he was yelling at _Draco_ of all people. We shouldn't keep him waiting any longer, or he's bound to hex someone."

Blaise lead his errant brother back to the Malfoys, muttering all the while about the Lucius' temper tantrum. Ian wondered what could have gone wrong for Mr. Malfoy... He was never one to lose his composure easily...

* * *

Ginny pushed her way through the mass of witches and wizards, a small smile still lingering on her face. She wondered who that boy had been... Ginny shuddered at the idea of what might have happened if she hadn't run into him. To think, she had been alone in Knockturn Alley! In fact, Ginny felt rather stupid now that she realized just how obvious it had been. After all, everything she had seen since dropping out of the Floo described Knockturn Alley in a nutshell; dark, spooky, and totally off-limits. At that, a smug grin twisted her lips.

_'Oh, Fred and George are going to be mad with envy when they find out. They've been trying to catch a glimpse of that place for years!'_

Looking back, the resulting adventure of her Floo mistake had been exciting- if she discounted all the moments when she had thought her heart would burst out of her chest from fear. She'd braved a place that few her age would dare approach, and come out no worse for wear. She had also made what just might be her first new friend at Hogwarts.

_'That is, if he still wants to see me,'_ Ginny amended. That boy had been amusing, and one of the few people she'd ever met her own age. _'He was kind of annoying, though. And arrogant. And I'd bet anything that he ends up in Slytherin.'_

Ginny grimaced. Her brothers weren't going to approve of him much if that were the case. They were all so completely _Gryffindor_... And what if Ginny got Sorted there, too, as was tradition among her family? Would that boy even still want to be her friend?

_'I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens,'_ she decided.

"Hey, Ron, I think I see her!"

A familiar voice broke through Ginny's reverie. She spun around, eyes searching, and found a boy with scruffy black hair and horn-rimmed glasses pushing through the crowd. Close behind him was another boy with brilliant red hair the same shade as her own. Ginny's brother, Ron, didn't look half as pleased as he ought to be with finding her. In fact, his expression was downright livid.

Harry, on the other hand, appeared an odd mix of relieved and wary. Ginny sighed at that. She hadn't know the Boy-Who-Lived for very long, only meeting him once her three most foolhardy brothers had practically kidnapped him from his relatives and brought him to stay at the Burrow. He seemed like a relatively kind boy, if a little shy, especially around Ginny.

Not even twenty-four hours into his stay with her family, some moron-

_'Who calls himself Ron,' _Ginny mentally injected,_ 'and is somehow related to me.'_

-decided it would be funny to tell Harry all about 'sweet little Ginny's stupid crush,' and in excruciating detail.

_'I mean, was it really necessary to mention the shrine I had on my wall when I was six?'_

Ron had conveniently left out one vital piece of information after whispering into Harry's ear, and watching the savior of the wizarding world turn a deep scarlet from the neck up...

_'Like the fact that my crush ended ages ago!'_ she huffed indignantly.

Sure, a younger, more naive Ginny had been hooked on Harry Potter- who wouldn't be after growing up on bedtime stories of his heroic triumph over You-Know-Who? But after a year of letters from Ron, boasting about how much he was enjoying school, especially his new best friend, Harry Potter, Ginny had gained a new perspective.

Harry Potter was just a regular boy, the same age as her brother. He was a bit braver than most kids, but he was still one himself. Her mother's stories had never mentioned the fact that Harry Potter grew up like a Muggle, or that his relatives weren't very fond of him. They didn't depict him as an average young wizard, struggling through his classes and sleeping in on weekends. Ron's letters had really brought home just how... _normal_ he was.

It was that knowledge that ended Ginny's childish crush. Not to mention the realization that Harry was a lot like her brothers, which definitely killed any romantic feelings she would ever have.

However, Harry was unaware of that. He was still mortified, in fact. Ginny found it hard to believe how someone so famous could be so completely embarrassed by a simple crush from a younger girl, but then again, this only proved how much like any other boy he was.

Harry had barely looked her in the eye since that day. He was avoiding Ginny altogether, and she tried not to blame him. Ron, on the other hand, could expect retaliation in the near future. Something painful and degrading. Maybe Ginny would leave another spider in his bed... He deserved whatever he got. The last time Ginny had tried to speak with Harry at breakfast, he had put his elbow in the butter dish and blushed like mad. The boy was hopeless, and Ron was definitely going to get it.

And speaking of the git himself...

"There you are, Ginny! Just where the bloody hell have you been?"

She gave him a glare. How dare he act like this was all her fault!

"I got lost, Ron. I just ended up one grate too far, it's not that big a deal," she said.

"Not that big a deal?" Ron swelled indignantly and began ranting. "Ginny, you've got everyone worried sick, and instead of shopping, we're all stuck running around after you! Really, going off by yourself! What if something had happened to you-"

"I can take care of myself, Ron," Ginny said through gritted teeth.

"A fat lot of good you'd be if someone like Malfoy were to show up! You know there are Slytherins shopping here today-"

"Ron, relax, she said it was an accident," Harry's soft voice interrupted her brother from shoving his foot even further down his throat.

Ginny silently thanked Harry for sticking up for her. Even if he couldn't stand to be in her presence, at least he had enough compassion to help her out.

"Fine," Ron gritted his teeth and backed down. Smart move on his part, because not a second later, their mother appeared.

"OH, MY BABY!" Molly Weasley's joyful shriek deafened any bystanders, and Ginny herself flinched in preparation of the absolute coddling that was to come. She wasn't mistaken, as her mother dumped her bags to the ground and pulled Ginny into a rib-cracking hug.

"Oh, you're alright- I was so worried- Not a trace of you when we arrived- Didn't know what to think-" she babbled on as the rest of the Weasley clan arrived.

"Gah! M-mum, can't br-breathe!" Ginny wheezed desperately.

"Erm, Molly-" Ginny's father gently pried away his wife before their only daughter suffocated.

"Oh! So sorry dear." Ginny's mother released her, but couldn't resist patting the girl down and reassuring herself that everything was in one piece.

"Oi, Ginny-"

"Where have you been?"

Fred and George appeared at her side, their identical joking features twisted into concern for their sister.

"Um, I was..." Ginny debated what to tell them,

"Mother, did you find Ginny- Oh, there she is! Ginny, what did you think you were doing-" Ah, Percy had arrived. He was probably the most stifling of Ginny's brothers. He had always taken his duty to watch after them far too seriously. The Prefect badge he wore like a war medal these days hadn't helped the situation- or his ego- at all.

"Hey, I'll tell you guys later, all right?" Ginny whispered aside to the twins.

Fred was the first to catch the mischievous light in her eyes, and grinned conspiratorially to his brother. George nodded and winked at Ginny.

"Sure, thing, oh-sister-of-mine-"

"But don't think you're off the hook-"

"We want details-"

"Lots of them-"

"About our little Gin-Gin's adventure-"

"Later!" Ginny hissed, eyes traveling toward their parents, who were both in discussion about where to go first, now that they had found Ginny.

Harry and Ron were already preoccupied, although Ron jumped in with a plea to visit _Quality Quidditch Supplies_. Percy shot that down in a heartbeat, but their mother tried to pacify Ron by suggesting they take a quick peak before going home. For now, she pointed out that all of them needed new books, Ginny the entire school list, including her wand, and at least Fred and George had outgrown their robes as well... All in all, that meant a stop by _Gringotts_ first.

Ginny felt a bit disheartened by the thought of money, as did the rest of her family, though they covered it up well. She was not looking forward to shopping second-hand. Some things would probably be hand-me-downs from her brothers, too.

"Well, come on, children, let's get going!"

_'Sometimes, I wish we weren't so dirt poor...'_

* * *

The rest of the day went by smoothly enough, if one were to ignore a spot of disaster here and there. Ginny had gotten all her supplies before their meager amount of gold ran out. She actually had Harry to thank for that, when he tipped an armload of expensive books into her cauldron. Ginny's mother had looked ready to protest his generosity- Weasleys just hated charity- but Ginny couldn't care less. She was sure Harry would have tossed them in the nearest rubbish bin anyway, or burned them. In fact, the burning was more likely. It was actually an interesting story, how Harry's fury was drawn to the glossy-covered books.

_Flourish and Blotts_ was one of their last stops that day, as no one wanted to carry around the number of heavy books they were all assigned. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must have been a bloody sadist for making each student purchase a full set of books by Gilderoy Lockhart, and it was costing the Weasleys a pretty penny just for each child, although Fred and George insisted on sharing.

Hermione Granger was the only one pleased with the reading selection. She was another of Ron's best friends. He, Hermione, and Harry made up the Golden Trio of Gryffindor, as Ginny had heard. They'd run into Hermione in _Flourish and Blotts_, along with her parents, who were both Muggles.

Ginny's dad had nearly wet himself at their first meeting. Ginny was sure the Grangers were overwhelmed, and slightly frightened, by his enthusiasm. She supposed that was to be expected when a strange man approached you and started asking every question imaginable about plugs, batteries, and eckeltrikity.

But back to the main issue, _Flourish and Blotts_ had been overrun with fanwitches- all about the same age as her mother, who joined their flocks, much to Ginny's eternal shame. Gilderoy Lockhart himself was holding a book signing, a rather large coincidence when it was _his_ books that the entire Hogwarts population was being forced to buy. And then he had dropped the bombshell. He was teaching at Hogwarts.

Ginny wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the unfairness of it all.

Lockhart wasn't the type of person you would be comfortable learning from. Sure, he was attractive, but he winked and flashed his teeth _way_ too much for comfort. And what kind of man walked around in violet robes, other than Dumbledore? If it wasn't her initial impression of Lockhart that made Ginny uneasy, then it was what happened once he spotted his rival in fame and fortune.

Harry had only been trying to grab a copy of _Gadding With Ghouls_ off of a high shelf when it happened. He was actually trying to get it for Ginny, which made her feel rather guilty.

Lockhart's eyes had fallen on Harry for only a moment, and in that second, the fluttering baby-blues had widened in shock. He had then jumped up in a parody of surprise far too delayed to be real, and announced to the entire store-

"WHY, IF IT ISN'T HARRY POTTER!"

Harry had been swarmed at that point, the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione rudely pushed aside while he was dragged up toward the signing table by an overzealous reporter with too much makeup, and her snooty little photographer trailing after like an eager puppy following a bone.

The spontaneous photo shoot had lasted ten minutes, with Harry growing more and more agitated as Lockhart hung all over him while the photographer flitted around the scene snapping pictures for the Daily Prophet. The Boy-Who-Lived had looked ready to explode by the time the twins jumped in with a stroke of genius.

The devious duo just happened to be carrying a shopping bag from _Dervish and Bangs_. Ginny got the feeling they had made a pit stop while everyone else was searching for her. She didn't begrudge them at all, knowing her mother would have never allowed it otherwise.

George had been the one to dig out a newly-purchased dung-bomb. He lobbed it into the air with a war cry of, "Fire in the hole!" Witches had begun shrieking in disgust at the putrid smell, and the mob scrambled for the fresh air outside.

Their mother knew who the culprits were immediately, and prepared to give them a stern talking-to, but Ginny had waylaid her by pretending to be shoved from behind. She flung herself into her mother's path, knocking the woman against a banner for Lockhart's book signing. The two dragged the glittering cloth down around them, which knocked over an elaborate pyramid of signed photos down as well. They fluttered to the ground, one catching on a hysterical witch and blinding her, causing her to trip over Ginny's cauldron, which bowled over an entire gaggle of middle-aged women, who fell into the magazine rack, which banged against the Magical Creature book shelf, which smacked into the Divination stock, and caused a domino-like effect to follow.

Ginny could only gape in disbelief at the catastrophic results.

Fred had slinked up to Gilderoy Lockhart during all the commotion, and easily snatched Harry from the clutches of the catatonic celebrity. Lockhart could only stare at the disaster in horror. Ginny sincerely hoped he had shown more backbone while battling werewolves and zombies. The reporter was too busy dictating in a dramatic tone to her Quick Quotes Quill about the rampage to notice anything other than her juicy story, and the photographer was snapping photos of the destruction at a rapid pace, leaving people dazed by all the flashes.

It was a furiously distraught Molly Weasley who ushered the children from the book shop in the end, followed by a nervous Arthur Weasley as he tried to calm down the sobbing store owner.

"Really, old fellow, it can all be fixed in time! Suicide is not an answer-"

"Fred, George, you two are going to spend the rest of the summer _and the next_ de-gnoming the garden if I have anything to say about it-"

"Aw, Mum-"

"We were only trying to help Harry-"

"The poor chum looked desperate-"

"That's no excuse for your behavior! I've never been so embarrassed in my life-"

"Really, Mrs. Weasley, it's alright. They were just trying to help-"

"I agree that Mr. Lockhart may have overdone things, Harry, but perhaps they could have handled in a more civilized fashion-"

"How, Hermione? That bloke wasn't about to let me go any time soon-"

"Our family was disgraced in front of Gilderoy Lockhart himself! A fine job those two did-"

"Yeah, it was bloody brilliant!"

"That's not what I meant, Ron-"

"Oh, you're such a stick in the mud, Percy-"

"OH, MY SHOP-"

"Please calm down, sir-"

"Too bad we had to use up the dung-bomb-"

"Yeah, and we just bought it-"

"But it didn't go to waste-"

"And we can always Owl Order for more-"

"YOU MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT!"

Ginny and her family eventually said farewell to a rather shaken pair of Muggles and Hermione, and then gathered up their supplies and headed back to the _Leaky Cauldron_. They were still bickering over the event in _Flourish and Blotts_ as they entered the pub, Mrs. Weasley insisting she go with Ginny. Ginny had sided with Fred and George on the whole debacle, although Hermione also had a good point. Maybe they could have gone about it with a little less flair... Just thinking about the ruined store made Ginny wince.

_'I can't believe that's the second store I've demolished in one day!'_ she thought ruefully. _'If I'm not careful, I'll end up breaking Fred and George's record.'_

* * *

"Home at last," Ginny groaned.

She finished dragging the heavily burdened cauldron into her room and dumped the contents onto the bed. She figured she might as well sort through her purchases now, and make sure that nothing had been left behind during the stampede in _Flourish and Blotts_.

The first thing she lifted out was the stack of shiny books by Gilderoy Lockhart. There were seven in total, and they must have weighed half as much as Ginny herself. She shoved the pile unceremoniously off the bed, letting them hit the floor with a loud thwack, newly-pressed pages now splayed and bent. _Travels With Trolls_ was lying face up, with a detailed illustration of Gilderoy Lockhart effortlessly holding the struggling beast in a headlock. After Ginny's rough treatment, the blonde wizard's beaming smile faltered into as near as a frown as one could get while still showing all their teeth. Ginny didn't feel a speck of remorse as she smiled back sarcastically.

Next, was the First Year Potions kit, which Ginny handled with much more care as she tucked it away on an empty shelf. She was actually looking forward to Potions, despite all she had heard from her brothers about the professor who taught it. It sounded a lot like cooking, which Ginny helped her mother with all the time. It also reminded Ginny of some of the explosive concoctions she had helped the twins stir up in the confines of their room. Their mother wasn't aware of that, though.

All that was left in the cauldron were a set of glass phials, brass scales and a telescope that had seen better days. As for the rest of her school supplies, Ginny would be using Charlie's first pair of dragon hide gloves, which were surprisingly still in one piece, and one of Bill's old winter cloaks that he had outgrown. Ginny was also stuck with Percy's old school robes. It would have made more sense for her to get them from Fred or George, but those two had practically destroyed most of their wardrobe through various mishaps. Unfortunately, Percy was a good deal taller than Ginny, so her mum would have to shorten the robes as well as re-stitch the sleeves that were fraying at the ends.

_'At least I have one thing that wasn't already used by someone else,' _Ginny sighed, as she pulled out a slim brown case that held her new wand.

The original plan had been for Ginny to use her Aunt Muriel's old wand. That is, until the family realized just how unsuited to it she was. Her parents hadn't given up, though, instead pulling out every old wand they could find from the family vault and owling some of their more distant relatives for help. Still, wand after wand, and nothing had worked for Ginny.

It wasn't even that they were a little bit off, or not quite as strong. Then she would have just had to endure as Ron did with Bill's old wand. Rather, it seemed liked both the Weasley and Prewitt wands just outright clashed with her. The moment one touched her hand, it would go haywire, usually causing minor destruction in the way of sparks that set the drapes on fire and a wave of magic that cracked every window on the first floor.

It wasn't until Ginny's father came home early one afternoon with an estranged cousin's wand that they finally called it quits. One swish, and Ginny had blasted a nearby by bush with something like a _Reducto_ hex. About a dozen singed gnomes ran out of the smoking shrub, screaming bloody murder. The strangest thing about the powerful effects was that Cousin Reginald was little more than a Squib, working in the Muggle world as an accountant. Reginald's wand had never even worked so well for _him_.

In the end, Ginny's parents had grudgingly made a stop at Ollivander's, all the while quietly mourning the setback this was going to create in the funds for Christmas. Ginny had muttered aside to her mum that they really didn't have to buy her anything for a while, the wand was plenty enough. Mrs. Weasley had stammered some kind of refusal before declaring the subject closed.

Ginny pulled the lid off of the nondescript box reverently, grinning at her first sight of the brand new wand within. The dark wood finish gleamed without a single fingerprint to mar its beauty, and a presence of magic just seem to hover around it. She gently stroked a finger down it, gasping in delight at the way her hand tingled afterwards.

Ollivander had managed to find Ginny the perfect wand in a surprisingly short amount of time, as Harry had commented when she and her mother rejoined everyone outside of _Fortesque's_ afterwards. Ginny had known right away that it was the one. There was just a feeling of rightness to it that hadn't been among any of the other wands she'd grasped. After one wave, rather than anything bursting into flames, as she had warned Mr. Ollivander might happen, there had been a tranquil show of mint green sparks and nothing more.

Ginny's wand was made of rowan wood, nine inches long, and with a single unicorn tail hair at its center. Ginny hadn't missed the small frown on Ollivander's face as he handed her the wand. Upon asking, he explained that the hair had come from a rather finicky young unicorn that had led the old man on a merry chase through the forest just outside of Hogwarts. Ginny had tried not to laugh as he grumbled something about a romp through a large mud puddle, followed by a race through an Acromantula nest. According the Ollivander, Ginny and her wand were destined for mayhem, and he wished her mother good luck…

Reluctantly, Ginny forced herself to break from her thoughts and close up the box. She slipped it into a drawer overcrowded with her mum's annual sweaters. Yawning, Ginny pulled out a pair of pajamas from the drawer underneath. The day had definitely been exhausting, and Ginny was eager to get to bed.

She picked out a pair of black shorts and an over-sized tank top and dropped them next to her pillow. Sitting down, Ginny pulled off her shoes and pulled her jacket over her head. She was sleepy enough that little would penetrate her foggy brain. Of course, even Ginny couldn't ignore it when something fell out of the hood of her jacket and smacked her upraised face.

"Ouch!" Ginny rubbed her nose gently, glad it wasn't bleeding.

_'What the bloody hell just hit me?'_ She glared down, meaning to direct her irritation. Then she saw it. The object of her fury was a slim black book.

Ginny frowned. _'I don't remember buying this...' _

She picked the book up carefully and turned it over in her hands. _'Hmm, no title... Wait.'_ Ginny ran a finger over the faded silver letters she now noticed on the cover.

"T.M. Riddle," Ginny whispered the name aloud. If she hadn't been so focused on the words, then Ginny might have noticed the sudden stir in the air around her.

_'It's a diary!'_ she realized as she flipped through several pages. _'An empty diary,'_ she amended. It also looked rather worn, and the year on the cover suggested that it was very old. _'Why didn't this T.M. Riddle ever write in it?'_

Upon further inspection, Ginny also found a store address on the back. _'Vauxhall Road, London... That's odd. How did a Muggle diary get into my school things-'_

"HEY, GINNY!" a voice shouted through her door.

"WHAT?" Ginny snapped, still distracted by the diary she held.

"MUM WANTS YOU DOWNSTAIRS!"

Ginny blew out a breath in irritation. "Fine, I'll be there in a second."

Reluctantly, she put down the diary, deciding she would have to look it over in the morning. She moved to exit the room, but paused. Thinking quickly, Ginny walked back to the bed and picked up the diary. On impulse, she tucked it under her pillow and out of sight.

"GINNY!" her mother's voice wailed throughout the house.

"I'M COMING!" Ginny ran out of the room and, this time, she didn't glance back.

* * *

**REVIEW!**

**Wow, chapter two already? Okay, it was actually a bit of a wait for you guys, but for me, this is amazing. What did you think? Was Ian alright for you? What about Diagon Alley? Well, I'm going to stop bugging you all and post this. Next time should be the train ride to Hogwarts.**


	3. Shock by Sorting

**Disclaimer: I take full credit for Ian and his owl, but I have to share Ginny with J.K. Rowling (pouts).**

**A/N: Okay, I need to warn any of my old readers that there have been a few changes to the first two chapters. I scrapped one of the original characters in the prologue, and I changed a little of the second chapter. It's nothing too major, but I recommend reading it over, if only to refresh your memory and because Luna Lovegood is just that awesome (hint hint).**

* * *

_Ginny was wandering through a forest. It seemed to be just past noon, and the muggy air was stifling in every patch of sunlight that managed to pierce the leafy canopy overhead. Ginny, however, didn't let the heat deter her as she settled down in her favorite spot beneath the crooked willow tree and pulled out her diary. She only wanted to be alone for a while, tired of the constant jibes and hateful stares that always seemed to follow her. _

_But what did they know, anyway? _

_Nothing, that's what._

_She held the slim black book in her lap and ran a hand down the cover in a fond caress. It was one of the rare possessions that belonged solely to her. It was her confidant and her dearest friend- not that she had many of those to compare it with. _

_Ginny dug into the pocket of her overlarge jumper for a moment, and pulled out a Muggle pen she had filched a few days ago. The ink was still half full, so it should last through a couple weeks of writing. She flipped open the diary to a clean place, bypassing the pages before it that were crammed with neat and tiny script. She placed the pen tip against the slightly wrinkled paper and let her thoughts gather._

_As the words flowed, Ginny's eyes moved from the unfamiliar script that continued without any conscious effort, and focused on the hand that held the pen, still zooming across the page. Something about it was different... For once, Ginny lost the surety that she knew the back of her own hand better than anything else. She realized that her skin looked paler, the fingers long and tapered..._

_Footsteps crunched on the ground behind her, and a shrill voice shattered the tranquil air. "THERE YOU ARE, BOY!"_

Ginny snapped awake with a muffled shout of surprise, startling the only other occupant of the compartment from her reading. Hermione glanced at the other girl in concern, before directing her gaze to the window, watching the open fields fly by, and then to the door, just as two students walked by deep in conversation. Her fingers worried unconsciously at the bindings of _Gadding With Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart, and it seemed as though she hadn't made any progress since first opening the book.

"Have they still not turned up?" Ginny asked, as she worked out the kinks in her neck from her nap against the window.

She hadn't planned on falling asleep so shortly after the train departed, but there was little else to do in the tiny compartment. Hermione was not the best conversationalist in general, but she really made Ginny want to grind her teeth after fifteen minutes of dictating just how she was going to properly scold her two friends whenever they showed up. It appeared that either Ron and Harry had developed a sixth sense where Hermione was involved, or they were just honestly not on the train. If that was the case, then the two second years were in serious trouble later on. Ginny, for one, was looking forward to her mum's howler…

She sighed gustily and glanced toward the window. Rolling hills of emerald sped by, deserted except for the occasional cow. The sun was just beginning to sink into the horizon, which meant a few hours yet until they reached Hogwarts. Ginny studied the rose-tinted clouds and thought she spotted a shape among them. She dismissed it as some large species of bird, perhaps an eagle owl following its owner, and turned back to her bushy-haired companion with some trepidation.

Hermione appeared stressed, and was probably working herself toward another rant in Ginny's presence. While the bloodshot eyes and pinched lips did hit her with a pang of guilt, Ginny was willing to dump it all on Ron later. She had no obligation to comfort the girl when they barely knew each other… and what could she say anyway?

"Erm, Hermione," Ginny cleared her throat.

"Yes?" she answered, making a show of carefully marking her page as she shut the textbook. Her eyes drifted toward the compartment door again, as though her best friends would enter at any moment.

"I'm going to run to the loo," Ginny said, standing and straightening her clothes. "I'll keep an eye out for Ron and Harry," she offered.

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thanks."

Ginny left the compartment quickly, breathing a sigh of relief as the atmosphere immediately cleared. Sure, she couldn't help but wonder where her brother and Harry had gotten off to, but Ginny had her own problems to deal with. As soon as they reached Hogsmead Station, Ginny was going to be Sorted, and then she would begin her very first year as a Hogwarts student. It was rather daunting, actually, never mind that she had the tales of six older brothers to prepare her.

"Oi, I was only kidding! What are you-"

Ginny paused as the compartment door ahead rattled and shot open. A boy was unceremoniously shoved out, his trunk thumping into the hall after him. Before Ginny could even think of bypassing the odd commotion, an owl cage was tossed out, its occupant shrieking in protest. Ginny grabbed the poor bird before it gave the boy a concussion.

"Blaise, you bloody prat!" the boy shouted, even as the compartment door slammed in his face. He scowled and heaved his trunk off the floor before turning to address Ginny. "Thanks for catching my owl, but you'd have been better off leaving him-"

He froze, and Ginny blinked in surprise as she finally locked gazes with the strange boy from Knockturn Alley. She'd almost forgotten about meeting him… Finally, some decent company-

"You're that girl with the Floo problem!" he exclaimed, pointing directly at Ginny.

"I swear, I _will_ kick you-" Ginny hissed, her temper flaring.

The boy gulped and took a step back. His owl twittered quite evilly.

* * *

"So, you're a Weasley, eh?" the boy, now known as Ian Zabini, smirked.

Ginny didn't know how to feel about his expression. On the one hand, it rather matched his smug personality, and suggested she shouldn't take offense. On the other, the majority of pureblood society was known for its condescending attitude toward 'blood traitors' and 'Muggle-lovers.' At least his family wasn't particularly known for Death Eater associations, unlike that Malfoy Ron was always going on about. The second year just happened to be in Ian's old compartment with his brother, which had led to Ian being kicked out.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny said in reply. "I'm surprised the red hair didn't give it away at our first meeting," she smiled, ruefully tugging on her shoulder-length locks.

"Well, it did seem familiar, but I just couldn't place it," Ian admitted. "I suppose all of your family have it?"

"Yes. Me, my parents… and all six of my older brothers."

"Ouch," Ian winced. "I only have one _charming_ older brother, as you've seen, and a younger and older sister."

"Does your sister go to Hogwarts?" Ginny asked. Fred and George had never mentioned anyone named Zabini, but then, Ron probably didn't even know Blaise existed since he was in Slytherin.

Ian shook his head. "Nah, she goes to Beauxbatons, somewhere in France." A shadow briefly passed over his face. "We were living there during the war, but mum decided to move back to England when Rosalie was born. Marilia started school a year later, but she was set on France, anyway, because her English was still pretty rusty."

"Does that mean you speak French?" Ginny asked with interest.

"_Je ne parle qu'un petit peu de français_. I prefer English, though. I mean, the family is mostly Italian, anyway, so what's the point?" Ian shrugged. "So, you know enough about my family, but what about yours? Are all of your brothers at Hogwarts?"

"Percy, Fred, George, and Ron are. Bill and Charlie have already graduated. If you haven't already guessed, all of them were in Gryffindor." Ginny frowned as she mentioned their house.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Ian pointed out, surprised.

"Well, no," Ginny amended, "but I'm pretty sure I'll be a Gryffindor, too, and I doubt we'll get to talk much then."

Ian broke out in a teasing grin. "Oh, you'd miss me? Why, I'm terribly flattered, Miss Weasley. I swear on my heart that they will never tear us apart, _mon ami_."

Ginny scowled half-heartedly. "Oh, shut up, you git."

Ian clutched his chest, as though in pain, and swooned at her words. Straightening a moment later, he said seriously, "Don't worry about it so much, Ginny. Despite what you may have heard, getting Sorted isn't the end of the world. Frankly, I don't care all that much about what Blaise will think, but I do insist on protection from your brothers."

Ginny snorted.

"Hey, no sane man would stand again them! At least not until I learn a few more hexes…" he added under his breath.

The steady hum of the train suddenly changed, and Ginny realized that the time had flown since running into Ian, and the Express had arrived at Hogwarts. Ginny took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Well, I guess this is it…"

"Yep," Ian said, seemingly unconcerned. Ginny envied his relaxed attitude as he gathered up his trunk and owl.

As Ginny moved to follow him out, Ian turned and said, "Ah, Ginny? Where is all your stuff?"

Brown eyes widened and Ginny cursed. "I left it back in the compartment… with Hermione!"

Oops.

* * *

After gathering her belongings and apologizing heartily for abandoning Hermione, Ginny took off with Blaise to find a boat. She couldn't help but notice as she left Hermione that both boys were still missing. Ginny almost pitied Harry for the tongue-lashing he was in for… Ron, though, could go hang himself. He had done little to endear himself that summer, so Ginny felt no remorse.

The first years crowded down toward the lake, stumbling over slippery rocks in the dark, and trying not to lose the few friends they had. Hagrid and his lamp were the only obvious marking post for the new students. At least Ginny had remembered to leave her trunk behind at the last minute. Wonderful beings, House-Elves…

"C'mon, you lot!" Hagrid bellowed over the noise. "No more'n four to a boat!"

Ian led Ginny to the nearest of the wooden boats, and they were soon followed by a rather high-strung boy with wheat-colored hair and a scowl on his face. The expression obviously had something to do with the blonde girl trailing quite closely after him, a dreamy glaze to her protruding blue eyes. She stared at the boat as though she had never seen anything so fascinating, and leaned away from the water, murmuring about 'Blibbering Humdingers.'

Ian rolled his eyes, but Ginny wondered if she had seen the other girl somewhere before…

"Yeh'll get yer first look 'o Hogwarts in a tic!" Hagrid called back. The boats glided beneath a thick hanging of ivy, blanketing even the faintest moonlight, but when they emerged, the students gasped in awe. The castle was _magnificent_.

"I wonder if they have pudding…?" the blonde girl trailed off, staring unconcernedly past the glowing architecture.

No, Ginny had never seen _anything_ like her before.

* * *

After a poorly-rhymed Sorting song, courtesy of Howgarts' own singing hat, Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll of parchment, and said, "When I call your name, place the Sorting Hat on your head and have a seat." The first lucky student called was 'Bradley,' who scurried to the Ravenclaw table with flushed cheeks as the students applauded.

Ginny bit her lip and fidgeted as the next several names were called. Colin Creevey, who was quite a bit shorter than most of his classmates, rushed eagerly toward the Gryffindor table, although he face fell when he couldn't seem to locate someone. Ginny let her own eyes drift along the table of her future house. There were Fred and George, hardly paying any attention to the Sorting as they plotted new mischief with their heads bent together. They glanced up only once and sent Ginny encouraging winks. She grinned back anxiously, but managed to draw Percy's attention. He nodded rather pompously, and Ginny quickly moved on. Hermione was seated by herself, surprisingly. Ron and Harry still hadn't arrived? She couldn't imagine her parents waiting so long if the boys had missed the train…

"Draper, Alexander!"

Ginny watched as the irritated boy from the boat walked toward the stool, his expression set in stone, and his eyes determined. He remained under the Hat only a few minutes, and then "Slytherin!" was called out. He moved to his new table under rather unenthusiastic clapping.

'Fawcett' went to Gryffindor, and then 'Harper' joined Alexander in Slytherin. 'Lovegood Luna' wandered toward the stool as though it was only a resting stop for her true destination. Ginny couldn't hide her amazement as the strange girl drifted over to the Ravenclaw table. Evidently, her housemates shared Ginny's opinion as they drew away slightly, while staring blatantly at her radish earrings.

McGonagall soon skipped down the alphabet, to Ginny's horror, and several 'S' names were sorted into Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Then 'Vaisey' ended up in Slytherin, and Ginny flinched violently as her own name was called.

Her legs felt like jelly as she walked toward the stool, and Ginny only hoped they weren't visibly shaking. She could feel the eyes of her brothers watching with lazy anticipation, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as the baggy Hat slipped over her eyes, blocking everything out.

'In… and out…' she reminded herself. There was no need to fret so much. Ginny only had to wait for the hat to declare Gryffindor, and then she could get out the bloody spotlight. And Ian had even said that it wouldn't make a difference in their new friendship. He couldn't seem to care less about House prejudices.

And if her brothers minded…

Well, let them. Ginny was tired of them always telling her what to do. Being the youngest didn't make her an idiot, and she didn't always need to be protected. Ginny was her own person, with her own decisions and opinions to make. It was long past time that her family realized that!

"_Well, isn't this interesting…"_ a whisper of a voice intruded upon Ginny's thoughts, and she immediately stiffened.

"_You are something different from your brothers…"_ Ginny had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of something poking around her brain. The Sorting Hat made little confirming sounds and hummed thoughtfully. _"Quite a bit of courage, and you're no slouch at hard work… I wonder… but, hmmm… Oh! And what is this…? Then, perhaps…? Yes. That will do just fine…"_

"Gryffindor, right?" Ginny muttered. "Why are you taking so long, just put me in-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ginny's heart stopped.

* * *

Ian watched with some concern as his new friend continued to be Sorted… for ten minutes. It was taking a long time to Sort someone dead-set on Gryffindor… 

Ian rocked on his toes impatiently. Why did he have to be the last first year left? He just knew he should have taken his father's surname!

As sure as Ginny was on Gryffindor, Ian just knew he would be a Slytherin. It had nothing to do with family standing or his blood. Ian just considered himself fairly cunning, if he was being modest, and bloody brilliant, if he wasn't. Besides, he could never give up the chance to annoy Blaise everyday for the next six years!

He managed to catch his brother's eye and grinned maliciously. Blaise glowered and made a few threatening gestures before turning to Draco. All around the hall, scattered conversations were picking up as people grew bored with waiting and longed for the feast to begin. Ian himself admitted that Lovegood had the right of it; he was looking forward to the pudding-

"SLYTHERIN!"

-and maybe the treacle tart, he couldn't decide what he was craving more- Wait. Ian's attention turned abruptly to Ginny, and his eyebrows shot past his hairline incredulously.

'_What?!'_

The muted whispering around the hall suddenly got much louder. Surely everyone knew that a Weasley had sat under the Hat. A _Weasley_, for Merlin's sake. In _Slytherin_. The aforementioned house didn't seem to know how to respond. A few of the new first years clapped uncertainly, but quickly stopped under the heated glares from their seniors.

Ginny herself pulled that Hat off as though singed. She held it away from her body, and her mouth moved silently in disbelief. Then she darted a fearful look across the hall and cringed. Ian turned toward the Gryffindor table, as well, searching out the three brightest redheads. The eldest boy with a Prefect badge on his chest seemed quite foreboding, his face a blank mask, and his eyes turned shamefully away. The identical twins were far easier to read, their expressions contorted similarly between rage and confusion. Ian flinched sympathetically. Ginny wasn't going to have an easy time of it.

Standing slowly, Ginny stepped toward the Slytherin table, hesitant, as though she expected McGonagall to correct her, and send her back across the hall. The Deputy Headmistress disappointed her by sending a stern look and asking her to have a seat. Ginny finally sat down at the end of the table, completely cut off from the rest of her house, and let her red hair shield her face as she bowed her head in defeat.

"Zabini, Valerian!"

Ian almost didn't catch his name- he was so preoccupied with Ginny's plight. As the words finally registered, Ian sneered and cursed his mother for picking such a mortifying first name. He hoped, rather dreadfully, that the night's shock was enough to keep anyone from remembering it.

'_Really, Valerian?'_

He shuddered.

As Ian finally took his place at the Slytherin table, he sat beside Ginny, ignoring his brother's frantic waving. He tapped her on the shoulder and placed a reassuring grin on his face. Ginny glanced up in misery.

"So, do you think the pudding's any good?" He stretched his smile just a little wider, and tried to ooze confidence and comfort.

Ginny's head just missed her goblet as it hit the table with a muffle thump and an echoing groan.

* * *

Ron Weasley climbed painfully to his feet, moaning in dismay as his dad's car took off into the Forbidden Forest, of all places, limping on one flat tire like a wounded animal. How was he ever going to explain that…?

"Ron, are you alright?" Harry called, as he hefted his trunk, checking it for any additional battering.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Ron called back, while tucking his terrified rat into his front pocket. Scabbers was only a little worse for wear, but Ron was bloody tired of his biting. They were still in one piece, right? No need to worry!

Ron reached into his other pocket for his wand-

Oh, yeah, his wand… Bloody hell!

So, maybe flying a car to Hogwarts wasn't such a bright idea, after all.

"Come on," Harry finally said, "we'd better get up to the school…"

They dragged their trunks up the grassy slope, panting and groaning at the bruises left by that crazy tree. Really, who planted a thing like that outside a school? Ron sincerely hoped it wasn't another of Hagrid's pet projects.

"I think the feast's already started," he said, dropping his trunk to look through one of the brightly lit windows. "Hey, Harry, look! It's the sorting!"

It was impossible to spot anyone individually in the large hall, but that didn't stop Ron from searching for one head of a red hair. "I wonder if Ginny's been Sorted yet…?"

"Don't worry, Ron," Harry patted him on the shoulder, "I'm sure she's in Gryffindor, too!"

"Yeah, you're probably right," Ron agreed, although he couldn't help the sudden nagging he felt in the back of his mind. "Let's just get inside- I'm starving!"

Harry nodded, and together they heaved open the front doors just enough to squeeze in with their trunks.

"Whew! I can't believe we actually made it!" Ron grinned, feeling bolstered by their, somewhat shoddy, success.

"Yeah, now we just have to make sure we're not caught," Harry whispered, motioning for Ron to lower his voice. "Hermione'll kill us if we get detention the first night…"

"Well, she bound to kill us anyway, right?" Ron pointed out. "She'll probably start ranting about 'dangerous stunts' as soon as she sees us! Remember last year?"

Harry laughed. The night of Malfoy's duel and finding Fluffy had been pretty hectic. "Well, at least there's no Filch this time-"

"I'm afraid Mr. Filch is rather preoccupied at the moment," a chillingly cold voice interrupted, "but I'm sure he'll be quite interested to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Harry and Ron traded looks of horror as they turned to find Snape looming in all his bat-like glory, an evil sneer on his face.

Ron cursed. What _else_ could go wrong?

* * *

**REVIEW!**

**This chapter was put up without my beta's stamp of approval, so please excuse any mistakes I missed. Overall, I hope you enjoyed it, though. This is the first thing I've written in a year! Now, if only I hadn't skipped homework and sleeping to do it… I'm gonna die tomorrow...**


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